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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27742783">you've officially mcfucking lost it</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/tillsunrise/pseuds/tillsunrise'>tillsunrise</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>NCT (Band)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - High School, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Musicians</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 07:36:00</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,306</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27742783</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/tillsunrise/pseuds/tillsunrise</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Senior year is a stressful time for everyone, including Mark. Especially since the smiley junior in his music tutoring club makes him rethink a lot of his major life decisions.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Lee Donghyuck | Haechan/Mark Lee</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>55</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>you've officially mcfucking lost it</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>did i project a ton while writing this? why yes, yes i did</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Mark’s officially McFucking lost it. No, truly. </p><p>He’d always known he wanted to study something with business. It was relatively practical and something he could fast-track to save money. He always kept music on the back burner, because his parents always instilled in him to do whatever it took to stand out on paper. How many business majors could sing and dance and act and write and play guitar and piano and flute, huh? And all that had to be enough, right?</p><p>So then why was he doubting himself? And why was this so overnight? Why did it take only a few conversations with stupid Donghyuck Lee for this grand spiral? </p><p>If it weren’t for United Harmony, he wouldn’t even have to interact with Donghyuck. Most of his classes were senior-level, and he hardly expected to overlap with juniors like him. </p><p>This club, though, was like his adopted baby. Mark never got a formal officer position, which would have been nice to add to a college app, but the director still personally reached out to him to join Mark’s freshman year. And Mark was always too much of a coward to tell him he wanted to quit, so he just stuck with it all these years. Even if it meant going home later in the day.</p><p>Mr. Moon, the choir teacher, had been worried about the club’s future since Johnny Suh had graduated the year before. Johnny was the life, blood, and soul of the club. Mark didn’t know him well, other than a few chance run-ins at church or family potlucks, but Mark knew enough of his ethos. Johnny was a bit wacky but still talented and well-liked. He put in hours to organize the music and the people’s schedules. He just belonged to that older Facebook-savvy, MySpace-worthy generation. And of course he was so good that his parents let him become a piano major at Curtis. Curtis, the school with a lower acceptance rate than Stanford. They just didn’t make them like that anymore.</p><p>And Mark knew that. Mark knew all that, and still, he let Mr. Moon manipulate him into joining, lugging his guitar case around, and teaching kids how to sing on Thursdays.</p><p>Which was how and why he met Donghyuck Lee, the bane of his existence.</p><p>#</p><p>“You don’t mind if I join you today, Mark? Mr. Moon asked me to shadow you before assigning me a new student,” were the first words Mark heard from Donghyuck Lee. </p><p>He’d just flipped up his guitar case, but his eyes shot over to Donghyuck by the door. He was kind of short (like Mark, though he’d never admit it) and super smiley. He had a mop of brown hair, and smooth, tanned skin. But really, all Mark could process was his crescent eyes and the utter cuteness pouring off him in waves, complete with the clever, charming curve of his smile. </p><p>He was easily the cutest thing Mark had ever seen, second only to the “Balloons” by TVXQ music video. It was almost sickly sweet how polite he was. He didn’t trust him one bit. </p><p>“Didn’t you have one last year?” mumbled Mark, throwing his eyes back to his guitar. He’d known Donghyuck existed in theory, like in passing gossip, but experiencing him in person was just so different. Looking at the sun just seemed like a foolish idea.</p><p>Donghyuck giggled. Deadass giggled. “Yeah, but Chenle got professional training over the summer and came back to be a tutor.”</p><p>Mark remembered Chenle. How Donghyuck tamed that dolphin shriek into pursuing an organized, comprehensive arc was beyond him. “Oh,” he said intelligently. </p><p>Jisung was late, again. Mark had warned him time and time again to stop chatting in the halls, but did he listen? No. What could you expect from hyperactive freshmen anyway?</p><p>“Sorry I’m late!” cried Jisung, finally crashing into the practice room, his backpack not even fully zipped. He didn’t even use folders, and worksheets were crumpled at the edges. “It won’t happen again.”</p><p>Mark’s hand twitched. “Yeah, sure,” he told Donghyuck. </p><p>Jisung and Donghyuck sat down on the two fold-up chairs in their practice room, relegating Mark to the piano bench. There was a piano behind him, but it collected more dust than use since it was out of tune. Mark’s bony ass didn’t deserve this torture, hmm. And yet. “So Jisung, what do you want to work on today?”</p><p>Jisung lunged for his backpack. “So in class, Mr. Moon handed out new sheet music and we read through it a bit, but I still feel weird about some of the transitions. So I guess, um, that. If that’s okay with you.”</p><p>One of the benefits of United Harmony was the flexibility with which Mark could structure sessions. They could do school sheet music or technique exercises or fun pick-me-ups like pop songs. It was like a guided independent study, just with an evaluation at the end to show improvement. But days like this, they were simple enough to just sightread and get familiar. </p><p>“Oh my god, don’t tell me he gave you guys Gloria? Of course he did,” Donghyuck groaned.</p><p>Mark startled. He almost forgot Donghyuck was shadowing. “He did it our freshman year, too. I don’t see why not,” he added.</p><p>Jisung pouted, while Donghyuck huffed. “That doesn’t mean it’s the best piece to kick off a year with. There’s so much more to choir than just the boring, stuffy pieces,” whined Donghyuck.</p><p>“Boring? Stuffy? That shit is art!” Mark cried.</p><p>“It gives off such a bad first impression, especially for freshmen just entering high school. They think that’s all they’ll ever study, and that drives them away from the program,” finished Donghyuck, crossing his arms.</p><p>Mark opened his mouth but is just so outraged that nothing comes out. Funny how Donghyuck was the one talking about giving off a bad first impression. “Whatever,” Mark relented. “Let’s just go back to reading.”</p><p>Easier said than done, though.</p><p>Donghyuck kept interjecting. He was supposed to shadow, but he kept talking about actual vocal techniques for Jisung. Jisung, who was supposed to be Mark’s student, not Donghyuck’s. As if Mark didn’t know what he was doing.</p><p>“Your jaw keeps locking up, particularly on the short a sound. Try loosening up on the syllable before to ease into it,” suggested Donghyuck. “You want a full, rich sound, not like when Mark gets nasally.”</p><p>Mark couldn’t tell if he should be offended or flattered Donghyuck paid attention to him.“Yeah, just think about those particular words and relax whenever you read them,” he added helpfully.</p><p>“Thanks,” Jisung grinned, a whoosh of breath. </p><p>They kept working through the piece, though the way Donghyuck shadowed meant they jumped around, going in a completely different order than Mark would have. </p><p>Trust Donghyuck to shuffle everything up. </p><p>#</p><p>This became a recurring thing since the size of the club had diminished a bit after last year’s graduating class. There weren’t enough tutors for students, so people had to double up. Permanently.</p><p>Donghyuck would always show up at their pod and together, they’d both mentor Jisung in whatever pop song he wanted to work on. It seemed amazing that even someone as vibrant as Donghyuck with all his highs and lows could have patterns, but somehow even he fell into some shade of recurring mechanisms with Jisung and Mark.</p><p>Donghyuck always showed up after Mark and before Jisung. Always throwing Mark’s plans out the window. Always giving him anticipatory anxiety yet making him feel more alive than he’d ever felt before. </p><p>Routine was something. Something Mark could know well enough to predict. A piece of Donghyuck could be predictable, he learned. </p><p>(The one time Mark had forgotten his guitar case, he’d been sent into such a panic that his mom actually drove back to fetch it. He was already living in Johnny’s shadow. He couldn’t afford anything less than the best. Not even his best. Just the best.)</p><p>In sophomore year, he had the brilliant idea of opening up a Youtube channel. Mark did a bit of everything, but it’s mostly his playing the guitar layered with his singing covers of artists he adores, like Bruno Mars or… yeah, mainly Bruno Mars. </p><p>He wasn’t expecting to become like Justin Bieber overnight or anything, obviously, but it was kinda embarrassing when the rest of his school found out. They even did a spread about him in the school newspaper. Again, embarrassing.</p><p>When one of the student reporters interviewed him for the spread, he kind of hit a wall mentally and only talked about hip-hop for about half of the whole time. Mark figured they would have cut and edited out the irrelevant quotes, but no, they published an interview as chaotic as the original interview!</p><p>It was maybe the one instance where someone would have been more glad if they were only limited to sound bites. </p><p>And given the way their group chat blew up, his friends definitely read it. And their friends. And Donghyuck and Jisung, too somehow. </p><p>“What makes you any different than the hip-hop club, huh? Your voice!” cried Donghyuck, during one of their after school lessons, where they actually worked on relevant repertoire only. </p><p>Jisung nodded, wide-eyed, while Mark’s brain took a second to catch up (as always) with Donghyuck’s wit. “Hey! I’m in hip-hop club!”</p><p>Donghyuck smirked. “Exactly.”</p><p>“I didn’t know you could read,” Mark grumbled. </p><p>“Okay, Canada. Tell me how it makes sense I can sightread but not regular read?” Donghyuck teased. “Do I <em> look </em>like I’m Troy Bolton?”</p><p>Jisung tsked and shook his head disapprovingly at Mark, like <em> he </em>was the youngest one here. Mark struggled not to so obviously sulk. </p><p>#</p><p>Donghyuck didn’t mention anything about piano until actual months in. One day, he was just like: “Here, scoot over. Jisung, he means it like this.”</p><p>Because of course Donghyuck played piano too. It wasn’t enough for him to have the voice of an angel; he just had to be perfect too.</p><p>Mark seethed in muted jealousy. What would it be like to be so brave that falling down wouldn’t matter? What would it be like to know you would always be able to get back up onto your feet?</p><p>Only that wasn’t fair. There was no perfect way to play piano, just an approach different or more clever than his own. Mark tried to not think about how Donghyuck’s thigh was pressed up against his. </p><p>Donghyuck didn’t shy away from sound; there was nothing hesitant in the way he settled his hands before pushing into the keys, not even for a mezzo piano. </p><p>Jisung didn’t speak for a few beats too long. “No, I get what you both are trying to say. It’s just, I...don’t really want to do this anymore.”</p><p>Donghyuck’s hands stopped moving, hovering above the keys. </p><p>“What?” asked Mark, whipping his head around. Just in case he’d misheard. </p><p>“Like, I like you guys and all, but: I’m going through a bad time. And singing doesn’t really help me with feeling better. Hasn’t, for a while.”</p><p>“But you love it, right?” Donghyuck asked, nodding his head like that would trick Jisung into agreeing.</p><p>Jisung wrung his hands. “Of course. But just not in the same way as before. Performing makes me anxious. Practicing makes me anxious. Like, I know focusing on the tiny details is how we improve, but it’s hard to not internalize it as criticism. And just being conscious of all of it hasn’t made my connection with music improve. Music is beautiful but it’s not the greatest for my mind.”</p><p>Mark’s heart twisted. What was anyone supposed to do when the thing that healed you was also the one that harmed you?</p><p>He didn’t know what to say, either. He could relate a bit but never to that extent — and admitting that or trying to play it off as something surmountable through willpower, well, that would just defeat the purpose. </p><p>This was an impasse of sorts. For all of them.</p><p>“Oh, Jisung,” Donghyuck said, achingly tender. “Can I hold your hand?”</p><p>He nodded, and Donghyuck cradled Jisung’s hand in between both of his and gently squeezed. “I don’t know if we’ve said this or if anyone else has, but regardless, we haven’t said it enough. I’m so proud of you.”</p><p>“Me too,” Mark added. “You’ve done so much in such a short time. But we love you, and you gotta do what you gotta do, and we totally understand. Take care of yourself, okay?”</p><p>Jisung sniffled. “Thanks. I don’t deserve you guys, but...thanks.”</p><p>“Nonsense. None of that,” Donghyuck chided. “You deserve better than us.” </p><p>Mark stood to walk around the bench to make his point better. Jisung was ridiculously tall, but slouched over, his shoulders were fair game. Mark patted his shoulder, trying not to feel as awkward as he was. </p><p>“Yeah, it’s just. Can you also tell Mr. Moon for me? He kinda freaks me out.”</p><p>And well, Mark kinda owed that to him. So even though the idea terrified him, he went, “Yeah, no problem. I’ll take care of it.”</p><p>#</p><p>The conversation with Mr. Moon didn’t go well. Even when he has Donghyuck at his side, it’s utterly crushing. </p><p>“That’s just not the way we do things here,” Mr. Moon paced across the length of his office. “We don’t quit. And certainly not mid-year? That’s just not how we do it. How could you let that happen?”</p><p>Mark flushed, though he tried to help it. “We didn’t intentionally do anything. Things happen.”</p><p>“Well, I just think you should have taken better care of your relationships is what I’m saying.” Which is probably true, but it still felt incredibly cruel to say to a high schooler. </p><p>Mark blinked through stinging eyes, willing them to go away. </p><p>Donghyuck piped up, the first time he’d said anything since when they entered the office. “Sir, with all due respect, that isn’t fair. Life happens. And blaming someone for doing the right thing, for taking care of their own health and valuing their well-being? Well, that’s the exact kind of toxicity that led to kids like Jisung being driven away. </p><p>“The club shrank compared to last year, and it was more than just the “good” people graduating. It was the newer people sensing the marked disillusionment ready to happen from chasing something that doesn’t exist. Jisung needing to take some time off is incredibly telling of the environment we’ve cultivated, and you being unable to accept that he did what was right for him is also incredibly, incredibly telling. Like. The program is brilliant, and you’re a brilliant instructor, but there’s so much more to our club than this.” </p><p>Mr. Moon blinked, incredibly straight-faced. “Okay. You’re both excused. You can leave now.”</p><p>It certainly was an ending of sorts. Mark didn’t think he or Donghyuck had quite intended that way when the day started, or even Mr. Moon when he just told them to get out of his office, but by the time it ended, neither of them really had any interest in returning to the actual club. </p><p>Mark latched the door softly behind them and finally — <em> finally — </em>was able to look Donghyuck in the eye again.</p><p>He raised his brows at him. “What now?”</p><p>Donghyuck shrugged evenly. “Well, my friend, we are about to subsist exclusively on youth programs. Because, and I repeat: fuck this shit, I’m out.”</p><p>#</p><p>They both headed over to the carpool line in a bit of a daze. The talk had made them stay later than normal, which meant their rides had also been pushed back. </p><p>Or, in Mark’s case, his other tutor friend and normal guy, Lucas, had just driven home without him. </p><p>( <em> i thot you were absent or ded whoops, </em> Lucas responded to Mark’s highly warranted text of <em> ????????? </em>)</p><p>Donghyuck shifted on his feet, half-leaning against one of the pillars. For once, he seemed a bit unsure, a stark contrast to his usual way of just jumping into things with the ferocity of Mr. Kim utterly razing their calculus grades. “Have you figured out what you’re gonna do once you graduate? Like, is this going to affect that, I mean?”</p><p>Mark fumbled around a bit. “I’m going to get an MBA, or probably whatever’s most cost-effective.”</p><p>Donghyuck blinked. “Wait, so you’re not going to do music performance?”</p><p>Mark laughed, a bit high and reedy. He sounded and felt off, and it went far beyond just processing loss. “I can’t afford that.”</p><p>“What? But that makes no sense? Why would you do something you don’t even know if you’re good at or passionate about?”</p><p>“Everybody has an MBA. Having one is just a baseline at this point. It doesn’t matter how miserable or expensive school is.”</p><p>“But not everyone is you, Mark Lee. No one ever plays the way you do, like your heart is out on the floor in front of you.”</p><p>Mark looked away, casting his eyes to the ground. Crying now would suck. He couldn’t handle Jisung and then Mr. Moon and then this. “It’s not enough.” </p><p>“<em>You </em>are always enough. You’re a brilliant musician, just in the way you breathe it. Like the rest of us, we just interpret whatever’s right in front of us. Hell, even Johnny could never improvise as well as you. And he’s an actual pianist by profession. And even if you didn’t create, just the way you approach each page is beautiful. Have more faith in yourself.”</p><p>“I...thanks. I guess that’s really underwhelming, but I mean it: thank you,” Mark said, voice as genuine as he can make it. </p><p>Donghyuck beamed at him, and Mark just about ascended when he saw dimples.</p><p>“How do you always know exactly what to say?”</p><p>Donghyuck shrugged. “Because I’ve been there. I quit singing for two years in middle school, for reasons like Jisung. And even if I haven’t been there, I believe in myself. I know I’ll bounce back, because that’s what I’ve always done in the past. And you, I can always tell, are stronger than me, so that and more must be true for you.”</p><p>Since when had he become so wise? Mark didn’t really think he would have been quite like that himself a year ago. “I guess I should say something stronger. It seems weird to just shake your hand or high five or knock elbows or something.”</p><p>Donghyuck giggled as he fiddled with the straps on his backpack.   “You wish you were that lucky.”</p><p>Mark didn’t get a handshake or high-five or elbow. </p><p>He got a forehead flick and a flutter of butterflies.</p><p>#</p><p>Mark wondered if Donghyuck even knew. If he even knew how he trampled all over people’s hopes and dreams. If he even knew how strong and overbearing he was. If he even knew how brightly he shined. If he even knew how beautiful he was.</p><p>“Merry Christmas, Donghyuck,” Mark whispered in the corner of his room, laptop perched between his thighs. He could hear the chatter of their party guests downstairs, likely mingling and drinking eggnog. If he went down, they’d all likely ask him the same questions about his major and plans for college. He imagined this probably wouldn’t change once he’s actually there either. </p><p>The courage it had taken to amass a spare music portfolio — that right there was a shred of Mark’s soul, all his delicate attention to detail and sincerity that needed to be enough, but it was also a shred of Donghyuck. Donghyuck, who challenged him enough to draw him out of his own shell. Donghyuck, who navigated life with the confidence necessary to welcome and rise from the fall. </p><p>Donghyuck, who was simply just: Donghyuck. Maybe nothing but also everything, like life itself. </p><p>Mark twiddled his mom’s credit card between his pointer and middle fingers. He hit submit, and destiny left his hands.</p>
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